


Pining for the Fjords

by mysteriousaliwz (MysteriousAliWays)



Series: Sanctuary [7]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousAliWays/pseuds/mysteriousaliwz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have reached a parlous state in Sanctuary. Something must be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pining for the Fjords

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/profile)[**fredbassett**](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/) for her beta services, and to [](http://bigtitch.livejournal.com/profile)[**bigtitch**](http://bigtitch.livejournal.com/) for her enabling services. Dedicated to [](http://munchkinofdoom.livejournal.com/profile)[**munchkinofdoom**](http://munchkinofdoom.livejournal.com/) in honour of her birthday. I get around to these things eventually :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Current mood:**

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sleepy  
  
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**Entry tags:**

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[fic](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [primeval](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/primeval), [ryan](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/ryan), [ryan/stephen](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/ryan/stephen), [sanctuary!verse](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/sanctuary%21verse), [slash](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/slash), [stephen](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/tag/stephen)  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Pining for the Fjords  
Author: [](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/profile)[**mysteriousaliwz**](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/)  
Fandom: Primeval  
Rating: 15  
Disclaimer: Ryan, Stephen and Primeval belong to Impossible Pictures. Sanctuary, on the other hand is a product of the bizarre thing that is my imagination.  
Characters: Ryan/Stephen, The Management.  
Summary: Things have reached a parlous state in Sanctuary. Something must be done.  
Warning: Distinct lack of smut.  
Author Notes: Many thanks to [](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/profile)[**fredbassett**](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/) for her beta services, and to [](http://bigtitch.livejournal.com/profile)[**bigtitch**](http://bigtitch.livejournal.com/) for her enabling services. Dedicated to [](http://munchkinofdoom.livejournal.com/profile)[**munchkinofdoom**](http://munchkinofdoom.livejournal.com/) in honour of her birthday. I get around to these things eventually :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
The Management suite in Sanctuary was crammed almost to bursting point. Members of the Management Team were squeezed into corners and perched on tables and desks, the luckier ones having managed to lay claim to the few chairs. The giant plasma screen on the wall showed feeds from the videoconference suites in Australia and North America, with various webcam displays occupying the remaining space. The place was abuzz with curiosity and an air of expectation.

The Chief Porn Officer clumped into the room, overalls and helmet smeared in a thick layer of mud, leaving a trail of clods of sticky, brown clay behind her.

"This had better be good," she grumbled. "We were right on the point of breaking through into a whole new cave system."

"And I had to leave the kids with the old dear who lives next door," chimed in the Stalker-in-Chief, "and she stuffs them with so many sweets and cakes that I have to scrape them off the ceiling afterwards from the sugar high."

"I'd just uncovered a Roman mosaic floor," said the Manager in the Indiana Jones hat. "If I leave it unattended for long someone might muscle in on my dig and take the credit. This had better be important."

Head of Picspams (Northern Hemisphere) looked up from the visitor's application form where she'd been attempting to fit thirty-seven different dates into the box entitled 'Date of Demise' and wondering how to get Captain Jack Harkness to stay dead long enough to get up to anything constructive in Sanctuary.

"Has anyone got any idea what this is all about?" she asked. " I just got the message that something really important had come up and that an emergency Extraordinary General Meeting had been called. What's so urgent?"

"Haven't a clue," shrugged the Head of Visitor Services. "It's not Connor is it? He hasn't gone and done something stupid?"

On seeing the Chief Porn Officer's quizzically raised eyebrow, she continued hastily, "I mean something like getting himself permanently killed."

"Nah, we'd have heard the rumours," said the Manager in the Indiana Jones hat (hereafter referred to as MIJH, you'll be glad to hear).

A sleepy-looking Head of Picspams (Southern Hemisphere) appeared on the videoconference screen, tapped the microphone in front of her and announced, "All present and correct at this end. Why are we all here, anyway?"

"No idea" replied several voices.

"North America division signing in," piped up the Manager on the other videoconference screen. "Hi guys!"

The murmur had grown louder - in fact it could be said to have graduated to a babble of questions and speculation. The only person in the room not involved in the debate was the Chief Medical Officer (cum Hurt/Comfort Consultant) who was busily alternating between typing at her laptop and perusing her medical dictionary.

She paused to ask "Has anyone any idea how long it takes an amputation to heal?"

No-one had the chance to reply, because at that point the Chief Executive entered the room, wearing a grave expression.

"OK then, is everyone here? Can you all hear me at the back?"

Most nodded, but The Chief Porn Officer (let's call her the CPO) was shaking her head, which was tilted to the side, trying to dislodge something from her ear. "Sorry, it's this bloody mud" she muttered.

MIJH handed her a small pointed trowel, with which the CPO extracted a sizeable lump of earth. "There should still be some cotton buds in Ryan's tac vest" added MIJH.

The Chief Executive cleared her throat.

"Sorry to drag you in at such short notice, girls, but I've called this Extraordinary General Meeting because we have something of an emergency on our hands. I think the statistics will make it all clear."

She booted up her laptop, tapped on the keyboard, and brought up a chart on the screen. There was a general shuffling at the back of the room, as managers shifted position and peered over shoulders to get a better view.

"This chart shows the amount of sex that Ryan and Stephen were having in the first three months that they were both in Sanctuary, which we'll refer to as Quarter 1. Compare this with the more recent figures from this last quarter."

Another click on the keyboard brought up another chart, the sight of which brought forth a collective gasp of astonishment and horror.

The message was clear. The charts showed an unmistakable decline, the line that started off near the top of the chart gradually tailing off and then plunging precipitately down until it was barely above the bottom axis. You didn't have to be an expert in statistics to see immediately that this was Not Good.

"God, this is dreadful!" exclaimed the Stalker-in-Chief, whose face bore the same appalled expression as the rest of the room's occupants. "Are you sure there isn't something wrong with the figures?"

"No, I've double-checked - even went back through the CCTV logs. They've barely shagged in weeks."

"I never realised - I thought they were just having an off-day on my shift" said the Head of Picspams (Southern Hemisphere).

"Same here" said the North American Division Manager. "I guess none of us liked to admit that our storylines weren't doing it for them."

"I thought it was just me," said the Chief Medical Officer "but there must be something seriously wrong if Ryan and Stephen aren't, uh, performing for any of us. I mean, they used to be at it all the time like rabbits."

"Could they be coming down with something?" asked the Head of Visitor Services.

"Not unless we gave it to them" said the Chief Medical Officer. "And even then it wouldn't last past the end of a shift, maybe into the next day, max."

"We have to do something!" exclaimed one of the managers at the back of the room. "At this rate they won't be having any sex at all!"

Someone whimpered.

"Now there's no need for panic" soothed the Chief Exec. "We just need to work out what the problem is, and then we can all put our heads together and see what we can come up with to fix it. I think I have an idea what the matter might be."

She brought the CCTV feed up on the big screen.

Ryan and Stephen were outside in the grounds. It was a beautiful sunny day outside, but neither seemed to be enjoying the summer sunshine. Ryan was leaning against the top bar of the gate gazing wistfully into the trees outside the garden. His fingers were absent-mindedly fiddling with the bolt on the gate, but he wasn't attempting to open it. Stephen lounged forlornly propped up on one elbow on the grass at the roots of a massive oak tree, irritably pulling a leaf to pieces.

There was a collective sigh from the Management.

"Oh, they look so sad, the poor lads" said Picspams (North). "What do you think it might be?"

"I think I've narrowed it down to something that happened a few weeks ago" said the Chief Exec. "I've gone back through all the logs and found that a few Sundays ago they both tried to go for a walk on the other side of those trees."

"And?"

"And they discovered that the Sanctuary universe ends just on the other side of that big larch tree."

"Ah."

"Of course, they already knew that Sanctuary was something we built for them to take refuge in and that there wasn't anywhere they could go outside its boundaries, but I don't think it really registered until then."

All eyes were drawn again to the CCTV picture.

Stephen flopped bonelessly onto his back with a grunt. Normally at this point Ryan would have been pouncing on Stephen, pushing up his t-shirt and doing something interesting with those nipple piercings, but the soldier merely rested his crossed arms on top of the gate and heaved a pathetic sigh.

"They're pining," said Stalker-in-Chief. "They're outdoor types, used to action and adventure, going out and doing exciting, death-defying stuff every day. When you think about it, it's surprising they haven't felt the effects of being cooped up in here before now. It must be hard for them, knowing they can't get out."

"Benevolent house arrest," said Picspams (South).

"Effectively, yes," agreed Visitor Services. "Surely there must be something we can do?"

"Right, chaps," said the Chief Exec firmly, uncapping a marker pen and attaching a fresh pad of paper to the flipchart stand. "We need ideas."

~~~~~

Several hours later, the meeting was coming to a conclusion among stacks of empty pizza boxes and drifts of crumpled-up balls of paper.

"Right, so that's settled," said the Chief Exec. "Does everyone know what they have to do? All the responsibilities are clear?"

There was a chorus of assent.

"Okay then," said the Chief Exec, leaning forward in her chair. "Make it so."

~~~~~

The story is continued in  
[Under New Management](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/91656.html#cutid1) by [](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/profile)[**fredbassett**](http://fredbassett.livejournal.com/)

_   
**Pining for the Fjords**   
_


End file.
